


Augend & Addend

by gothjotun



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Animal Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 03:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20351458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothjotun/pseuds/gothjotun
Summary: Morty rescues an abused animal and takes him home, only to find out that he isn’t a normal cat. The green witch meets a human familiar of a former necromancer, the two learning to live with each other as their lives completely clash.





	1. Amatorculist

**Author's Note:**

> @ Chill if you see this...this is for u...! I was really like. Nervous posting this idea but I dunno. Please please please tell me if you like it y’all. It would mean the world to me ;—;

The night falls, slowly, softly. Like a feather, soon to meet the raging river of the chaotic sun. The dusk is made up of mother’s tears and children’s self spilled blood, the Moloch of Mortimer’s age. Ten thousand deaths in ten thousand seas under the stars. It falls without question, and without an explanation as to why it does. 

It comes whether you value the weight of the darkness or not. It comes. I am that I am. I come. 

I come. 

And Morty’s so scared of the night. And Morty wishes that the moon would forget to fall down from the sky. And Mortimer is finally developing his backbone, only with the late lamp lights outside his cottage. Slowly, slowly, and lovely, lovely, he falls in love with the night sky. 

A prophesied dusk gently introduces us to brilliant stars, the freckles of a sleeping god. Giants forged in black holes feed off heavenly light beams that promptly warp into speckles upon inked coverage.

It was Samhain. Morty was counting his herbs, sorting them, plucking, picking, trimming, it had to be perfect for tonight. It was a serious crime, criminal code, perhaps, to pass up this opportunity the moon had gifted him on this special occasion. He needed more ingredients for a spell he was working on, and he could only obtain them on this night. 

The young man was a healer, a garden witch. Mortimer was made up of morning dew, copper coins, mint, and ladybug legs. He smelled of thyme and peaches, with a hint of coffee. Honey dripped from his lips as liquid love clung to his eyelashes, making his vision hazy with adoration towards the craft he was called to.

His plants, his fruit, his light, it felt like a personal accomplishment to his own divine being. Forest animals came to play, Morty feeding them berries and nuts, cream and wine. He was one with them, and saw himself not above them, but eye to dilated eye with the woodland spirits. They brought him small gifts, wilting petals that dowsed his boney fingers in a roses scent. They brought him shiny rocks, snake skin, plastic forks, dirty shoelaces, and love letters from unrequited relationships. He had found irony in the rotting tree, dead as the love between the two simplistic human beings. 

It tickled his soul and plucked his heartstring to a miraculous tune. 

Tonight, he decided to roam the back roads of his little village in search of precious stones and golden coins that would appear in the darkness. Herbs blessed by the moons light were a rarity, so he brought a little wooden basket with him. Under a red cloth, he brought some milk and cheese to appease the fae folk that resided in the woods where he was traveling. 

He wore earthly colors, dark green overalls with laced up boots coinciding with a witches hat, both a worn out tan color. Morty had large, round spectacles with a slightly dirty white shirt, which was chronically coated in animal fur. He sported a large coat that hemmed to his boney knees. It was a wine red color, the fabric usually covered in pollen or petals. He was never seen without his murky green scarf, it was a gift from an elf as a return for helping him sew up a couple holes in his shirt. Morty was messy, but he was happy.

The sun was almost set when he left, the young man confident in himself as he knew exactly where to go and what he wanted. Morty delicately stepped into the forest, treading carefully as he hated to disturb the growing grass or the resting mushrooms. He made his way through the thickets, onto the path which lead to particular treasures only found on this night. The witch took his time, humming a little tune to himself as he left some chunks of cheese near a tree, Morty sensing delight within the woods as honor seeped past his skin in the form of singing. 

All was well in the world.

Morty inhaled gently through his nose then sighed, eyes fluttering closed as he could feel fae creep up next to him to obtain his cheddar and milk. He could feel them lightly kissing his cheeks and nose, whispering sweet thank yous and goodbyes in a language only compassionate hearts could understand. 

He smiled softly as he heard gentle giggling, the smile turning toothy as he started to giggle as well. Morty slowly opened his eyes to find herbs dangling out of his coat pocket, and the heavy weight of change in the other as his cheeks were dusted pink from the sickly sweet kisses. 

Suddenly, his smile was cut short as he heard an inhuman wail in the distance. Morty’s eyes widened as his brow furrowed, his head whipping around to locate where the screeching was coming from. He could make out dots of light and critters scampering away quickly upon the agonized call, and he felt like doing the same as well. 

He backed away slowly, breath uneven as he trembled. What was that? What’s happening? Is someone dying? Should I go help?

The screaming gave him chills, it made his spine tingle and the center of his chest cold. Morty’s pupils dilated in fear, his skin feeling prickly as he swallowed nervously, shaking. 

He didn’t know what to do, he was stuck in a terrible dilemma. Should he run? Or should he help? Morty picked at his nails nervously, gently chewing his bottom lip as he scuffled his beat up boot on the ground. The boy was a savant at healing, at nurturing the sick. If the person, or...thing...out there was injured, perhaps he could help…?

Another terrifying scream ensued, which promptly tore a hole in his heart, determination oozing out of the wound as he started running towards the sound without an answer to his thoughts.

It got louder, and louder, more agonizing as the seconds passed by. Morty’s ears were ringing as his vision blurred, the young man quite literally stumbling in front of a clearing where he stopped dead in his tracks. There were three dark figures, and they were laughing to themselves as they crowded around what seemed like a large plank of wood resting on the ground.

But there was something wriggling, thrashing on it. It screamed, it cried out for help, it mourned. Morty was frozen in place, petrified, which swiftly turned to mortification as he saw a torch being lit. It illuminated the cross, showing a Maine Coon nailed to it by its paws and scruff. 

It gave Morty shivers up his spine as his eyes immediately watered, his vision warping, fading. Salt and perversion of innocence ghosted over his irises in a milky form, making the flesh burn as despair dusted over his eyelashes. Liquid dripped down his flushed cheeks as his soft heart split in half upon seeing one of the woodland spirits being hoisted up for all to see. It caused him to cry out himself in grief as water gushed down his cheeks, his scream broken. He rushed towards the group right as they were about to set fire to the cross, the young man flinging himself at one of the figures. 

“Stop!” He shrieked, trying to pin down one of the bodies as he tackled someone to the ground.

“Stop it!”

Morty was no fighter, and he had no idea if he would survive the night against these unknown beings with their unknown strength. His gentle, boney hands tried to grip onto the massive muscles of the man he was straddling, which was short lived as he was picked up like he weighed nothing and thrown off of him. He whimpered loudly as he felt a swift kick to his back, proceeding by a kick to the face, followed by his stomach. 

_ “I’m going to die here, oh my god-” _

This went on for a few moments, the witch hyperventilating, his tear streaked face was bruising, bleeding, broken. Morty was huddled in a small ball, his legs retracting to his body. He didn’t want it to come to this, but something had to be done. 

In a panic, Morty mumbled something under his breath in a shaky tone, the boy shivering as he could immediately hear a distant howling. The men stopped, looking off into the distance, momentarily pausing their actions.

A moment of silence.

“What did you do…?” One of them asked as he backed away from Morty, looking around.

One by one.

Bit by breaking bit of Mortimer’s bones.

Here it comes.

Here I come.

There were hoards of glowing eyes watching the four from the trees surrounding them, blinking slowly, or not at all. The three beings stepped away from the boy, looking around frantically as there was deafening silence, other than Morty’s haggard breathing.

Then softly, slowly, all was quiet.

Then softly, slowly, fear corrupted them.

It was completely still. The sun had completely set, the only light source being the torch in one of the man’s hands. 

There was a low, very low, huffing. Multiple breaths shuddering, in unison, closing in on the men.

Breathing, just breathing. No growling, no claws, no fangs, nothing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Shudder.

  
  
  
  
  


**Run with us or run from us**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


I want to see them illuminated in the dark 

What we think about ourselves determines what we can do 

I can’t feel my shoes because my heels are bleeding happily I’ll drop off. He did not hurt me he didn’t bring harm to no one. Do not think you can waste my time this will not be difficult. And forget me now. Loveless and lost is what they are. Lean into my side. See creation come apart. Trenches are my home he did not hurt me he didn’t bring harm to no one. Regrettably, created in my heart this is no black and white I didn’t I didn’t I didn’t I didn’t I didn’t so don’t think you can raise that child? I love you, alas! My friend, I love you, alas. 

There he sits, flowing, waiting

Cherry tree blossoms on blue lake skies

Does Yahweh know how to worship my love? Does he bottle the spilled blood lost on his behalf? 

Does he still know the way to my heart after the road became dusty with grief, desolate and then overgrown with needs other than himself? It’s been a long forgotten path, muddy with tears and then promptly dried with dull resolution. 

He was remade in his era of absolution

He starves somewhere

He dies 

He does not have any lovers

He’s scared

Please see the cigarette ember

This is his kitchen 

He wants them to know what he’s done 

They are very afraid

I do not have any friends

Everything is clean and comfortable to the touch 

I often see people 

But they do not look out the window 

Because I’m not there

I’m scared 

This is his design.

This is his design.

This is his design.

He loves veins and broken things.

This is his design.

What can you do against me?

This is my design.

This is his design.

Now, bring him here.

;;;;

((()

“””””””””””””””””””

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Stop.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Jibaeja.m

  


Okay!

  


Look Morty! It’s the coat we bought together. Isn’t that nice? You can really get away with anything you know, my dad once stole a cano in front of everyone because he smiled and was nice and o h oh oh oh oh oh i I i I i h

H

9999999

864909

92

5

3

it's not my brother it's not my friends it's not my family - he noted how he excluded brother from family

  
  


415

Nothing lasts forever except god his words and the **souls of men**

  
  
  


Homesick…?

Homesick

  
  
  
  


_ Homesick _

  
  
  


**H o m e s i c k**

..

…..

……….

  
  
  
  


**Wake up now**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**We’ve been.....watching you**

  
  
  
  


……………..

Morty sat up gasping, which turned swiftly into coughing. His breath was shuddering as he blinked quickly, his frail body quaking as he looked around in the softly lit arena. 

He whimpered quietly as he rubbed his wet eyes with the back of his hand before squeezing them shut tightly. He sniffled, then opened his eyes again to see a light.

The mushrooms gave off a lovely mint colored glow, Morty being able to see his way around quite clearly, actually. Breath ragged, he started to think to himself, to think _ for _ himself.

“I need t-to get out of here.” He whispered, trying to get up.

He positioned himself to a kneeling pose, one foot on the ground as his chest heaved, Morty’s head bowing. His hand was rested on his propped up knee, the witch shuddering as his ribs ached. Counting down from three, he hoisted himself up, stumbling a bit as his legs started to buckle underneath him.

Morty caught himself, thankfully, then straightened up the best he could. He brushed off his overalls, then looked around properly. He sniffled softly as his eyes glanced over his surroundings, the young man promptly stiffening as he saw a figure crouching on the ground across from him. 

“Mortimer.”

His inhale shook.

“Come here, quickly.”

Okay…

Here he comes.

Here I come.

...footsteps

Morty cleared his throat.

“I...wh...o…?”

“Why does it matter.” The being murmured, denying Morty his name.

The figure motioned for the witch to crouch down as well, and upon seeing the cat, he dropped to his knees.

“Oh...oh my god…” He breathed, his hands shaking violently as he reached out for the animal.

“I’ve done all I can do.”

Morty looked up with watery eyes as the being stood up, his bottom lip trembling.

“Help me! Ple-please-”

But the figure was already gone. 

Blinking, Morty then promptly looked down at the cat, his tears clouding over the wounds. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand again, then wished his vision wasn’t clear as he beheld the mess beneath him. The cat had matted fur, the blood had congealed on him as he was now panting softly. Morty’s fingers twitched as one hand came to gently, very gently, stroke his head as the other delicately touched his stomach.

“Shh...shh...it’s okay.” Morty whispered, the cat still keeping his eyes closed despite the soft touches. 

“I’m here, I’m here. No need t-to worry, okay?” The witch murmured as he sniffled.

Morty tentatively held the cat’s paws in his shaking hands, proceeding to speak in a dead language very few could understand. He watched as the holes from the nails in closed slowly, then sealed up completely. Morty smiled softly to himself, quietly proud about his work despite the fear.

“I don’t have all of my tools with me.” He breathed after the incantation, the boy trembling as the large cat’s huffing suddenly became more labored.

Morty quickly looked around, finding himself to be completely alone. The glowing eyes had vanished, as did the men. But one thing that didn’t disappear was his black eye, and the blood that was covering his chin and past his nose. Morty’s body had already healed most of the wounds, albeit the bones were still sore, but not broken anymore. He looked back down at the creature, panic placing its hands on Morty’s head, the pressure seeping into his skull.

“I-I’m guna pick you up now, okay? I’m guna t-take you home.” Morty stuttered as he cautiously, and very slowly, picked up the Maine Coon. 

There was no fight.

He cradled the cat, his breath shuddering as he got up and started limping home, which turned into a sprint as he felt the life leaving the animal. Morty was sensitive to this type of energy, as he gave, and gave, and politely never received the blessings in return. He could feel the cat slipping away, his connection to animals was unbreakable and now was the time to fix this depleting life force.

So he ran. As fast as he could. He ran.

And ran.


	2. Agélastos

Morty wearily slumped against his doorframe, his breathing shaky as his legs turned to jelly. His knobby knees started to give out, but he caught himself just in time.

The witch managed to open the door to his cottage, Morty hurriedly limping in as he stumbled over to his alter. With trembling hands, he laid the dying cat onto the massive pentagram painted on his floor.

“O-Oh, oh god. Okay.” He breathed, inhaling and exhaling through his nose loudly. “You’ll- You’ll be okay. Just hang on.”

The cat wheezed in return, twitching involuntarily. Morty placed his hands on the animal, trying to control his own breathing now. He then got up and quickly lit the white candles encircling the large ring. 

He reached over to his alter and grabbed some herbs and berries, promptly putting them in a small cauldron that he propped up next to the two. 

Morty murmured an incantation as he crushed the ingredients into paste. He proceeded to add some moon water that he kept in an old mason jar with a honeycomb for good luck. He mixed in strawberry wine, sunflower seeds, witch hazel, a couple rose petals, and a drop of laudanum he kept for special occasions.

Morty worked as fast as possible as he heard the cat’s wheezing grow more quiet over time. His tears of desperation mixed into the concoction, adding a popping sound followed by some fizzling. His hands were trembling so badly that it was almost impossible to work, but he carried on despite it.

“It’s done- it’s-it’s-it’s done. Okay.” He breathed, mumbling worriedly to himself as he dipped a finger into the mixture.

“Here.” Morty whispered, bringing his hand up to the Maine Coon. “Ingest this.”

He held up his boney finger to the cat, and with his other hand, he gently pried open the felines mouth. The young man carefully fed the animal the substance, Morty’s frame trembling slightly as he was getting no response. He took a deep breath, and said a small prayer to anyone that would listen.

_ Please tell the moon _

_ Heal this life _

_ It’s haphazard in darkness  _

_ But not without purpose  _

_ He’s the epitome of fragility _

_ Will he know how to worship my grace?  _

_ Should he know how to coddle my love? _

_ I am the next of kin under Baphomet _

Morty had his eyes squeezed shut the whole time, which had him failing to notice the transformation going on in front of him. He continued chanting, his voice wavering as he held his hands in contrition, feeling remorse for his failure that he felt was entirely on him. The witch was slurring his words now as tears thickened his throat, he felt his mistake wrap its fingers around his jugular as it was hard to breathe. 

_ Mother Father God _

_ My duality  _

_ It purposely coincides with pain _

_ Come unto me _

_ With fire in my head _

_ With water in my eyes _

_ I beg him to stay _

Morty squeezed his eyes shut impossibly tighter, guilt surviving the wave of fear as it clung onto his heart. 

_ And I have summoned the hands of a father _

_ And I have sharpened my tongue with every surreptitious lie _

_ And I have practiced their jargon regarding suicidal ideation _

_ And I have made it mine _

Silence for a moment.

_ Please...anyone… _

Nothing.

_ Forgive me. _

Morty inhaled brokenly, his exhale morphing into a sob as he covered his face with his hands. The young man felt as though his sins were the cause of the animals death, that somehow this was all his doing. He continued weeping, pulling his legs up to his chest as guilt grew up like mold around his lungs. His tears were like murky water, unclean despite the salt, it’s form congealing into palpable pain.

The mass cradled his face, tears oozing down his cheeks at a steady pace. His breath hitched quietly as he heard a soft noise after a long moment. It sounded like a gentle voice, a shuffle, which piqued his curiosity as well as scared him. 

The witch, finally raising his head, was met with a hand tentatively touching his shoulder. His eyes grew large, a yelp escaping him as he scooted back subconsciously. 

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa!” He squeaked, eyes wide and full with water.

“Um-”

“What-”

“Listen, I-”

“Hold on-”

“Sorry?”

The voice apologized softly, albeit he sounded confused. 

“Who are you?” Morty whispered harshly, hugging himself tightly as the timid boy trembled. “What’s going on? Where’s my cat!”

“Uh- well…” The man motioned towards himself awkwardly. “That was um. Me. That cat? Me. AAAAll me.”

The witch squinted his eyes suspiciously, earning a slightly annoyed huff from the other.

“Think about this logically.”

Morty’s eyebrows raised as he exhaled a breathy laugh.

“Okay- okay. Logically being, why am I in the place of the cat- you know what. This sounds stupid, and it’s not coming out right. Just work with me here.”

The unnerved boy exhaled softly through his nose, complying with the others request. He blinked a couple times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming, then proceeded to open his mouth before closing it. Morty thought for a second, then opened his mouth to speak again. 

“Okay then...what’s your name?”

“My name is Rick.”

“Rick.” Matt mumbled, copying the cat.

He briefly scanned over the former feline in front of him. Morty noticed his haggard appearance, the blood matting his chaotic, blue hair against his forehead. His face was pale, probably from trauma, as it didn’t necessarily seem like his natural complexion. Rick was wearing all black, his clothes slightly torn and ragged, ill fitting to his stick skinny body. But what stood out the most were his eyes. They didn’t change from his feline form, Morty noticing that they were a mint green color. 

They were quite beautiful, he thought.

Morty cleared his throat, then asked the most basic question he could think of.

“Okay. Well. R-R-Rick. Do you remember anything?”

It took a moment for the other to respond.

“Vaguely?”

The newly introduced man also pulled his knees up to his chest, inhaling loudly through his nose as he then sighed.

“I remember- I remember fire. Nails. Heat and...rough hands.”

Rick swallowed nervously, his throat clicking.

“And then...I remember you.”

Morty nodded gently, his trembling ceasing as he unfolded his legs. He tried to change his body language that must have appeared off putting, and he was met with the other looking visibly relaxed now because of it.

The witch’s boney hand skimmed his nose as he sniffled quietly, urging a surge of courage to flow freely through him as he was jittery around the man. 

“Can I...see your hands. I just wanted to make sure they healed okay.” Morty mumbled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

Rick looked hesitant, apprehensive. Morty started to apologize, but the other held out a shaking hand towards the witch, who had scooted closer to him.

“I-I just…” Morty gently, ever so gently, took Rick’s hand into his own frail ones.

He softly caressed it, rubbing his left thumb carefully over the skin surrounding the newly formed scar. His right hand timidly, loosely, gripped Rick’s wrist so he could examine it closer.

The former felines hand was freezing against Morty’s warm fingers, the skin tougher than the witch’s. It was a stark contrast, but it seemed fitting somehow.

“You have really soft skin.” Rick muttered more to himself than Morty, which didn’t go unnoticed by the other.

Morty blinked up at him as he exhaled a sharp breath, a smile molding his facial features.

“O-oh! Tha-thank you.”

He ducked his head, trying to focus again. There was a moment of silence before the cat spoke up.

“You’re trembling.”

“H-hm?”

Morty tentatively looked up at the other, Rick’s eyes half lidded as he tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Your hands, they’re shaking.”

“W-Well, I’ve been through a lot tonight.” Morty muttered, swallowing quietly. “My nerves are shot.”

“Interesting.”

A small smile ghosted over Rick’s lips for a moment before disappearing. 

“Hm?”

“Do I make you nervous?” The man asked, but his tone sounded somewhat facetious. 

“Well- I-” 

Rick looked down at the other as he gently squeezed Morty’s hand, earning a small squeak. 

The cat grinned upon Morty’s crumbling composure, the witch noticing how defined and sharp his canines were. It all made his body tremble and his face blanched in a mixture of fear and confusion. 

“You have blood all over your face.” Rick flicked Morty’s nose, earning a huff and a hand swatting the old man away.

“A-A-And you have blood all in your hair.” The boy muttered, pouting. 

“Where’s your shower.” Rick looked around the room. “Or do your gross pets lick you clean.”

“ _ Hey.”  _ Morty said in a terse tone. 

“It’s just every healer I met has some weird ass shit going on in their homes. New age-y bullshit. N-N-Not proper magic.” Rick placed his hands on his hips, glancing around the witch’s home.

“I just saved your life!”

The old man ignored him as he stepped out of the circle of candles on the floor.

“Oh woooow. Bunch of weeds and flowers. I-I-I’m sure this does  _ wonders _ .” Rick picked up a plant, Morty rushing over and nabbing the pot.

“Oh yeah? And wh-wh-what magic do you perform? Huh?”

“Blood magic and necromancy.” Rick answered in a bored tone, disregarding Morty’s horrified face.

“Oh look.” The familiar snickered. “L-L-Look at your dumbass flowers. They’re wilting around me.”

“Get away from them!” The witch pushed the old man away from his indoor garden. 

Rick flashed him a toothy grin, Morty soon to learn that this was a rarity. 

“I thought you were nice!”

“There are no  _ nice _ people. Only people who secretly tolerate your bullshit instead of blatantly telling you to shut up.”

“I-I’m nice!” Morty protested.

“Yeah. “Nice” people don’t kill three men with their freakish hoard of forest creeps.”

The witch opened his mouth to retort, but he realized he had no sound argument to use as a comeback. 

“You’re- You’re also an animal.” He muttered.

“Can an animal fucking talk? They’re stupid a-a-as shit. Good for nothing. I’m a fucking human.”

“Cool! Good for you!” Morty huffed. “Now get out of my house!”

“Mmm.” Rick looked around. “No. I don’t think I will. I need a place to crash.”

The witch looked dumbfounded as the old man peeked into his room, then promptly sat down on his bed.

“That’s  _ my  _ bed!”

“Well, I’m a guest, aren’t I? Treat your guests well.”

“J-J-Just turn into your cat form a-a-and sleep on the floor!”

“Uh. No. No thanks.” Rick sneered. “I’m tired, and hurt. I need to sleep.”

“N-Not even a thank you?” Morty crossed his arms.

“Hm...thank you. Uh, what’s your name?”

“M-Mortimer. But my friends call me Morty.”

“Well thank you,  _ Morty _ . Leave me alone now.” Rick shut the door, the boy huffing.

“Unbelievable!” He pounded on the door. “You’re only staying the night!”

“Right.” Rick sounded facetious, which drove the kid insane.

“Goodnight, Mortimer.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ chill I would die for u <3 get a phcking account so I can follow u


End file.
